Lukas could not move. Not a muscle, not even a breath because he feared what would happen if he did. Valkari's blade hovered dangerously close to Rosalia's throat. The princess stood rigid, her wide eyes locked forward, expression absent and unnaturally so.

It was then Lukas understood the truth.

Rosalia was not frozen out of fear but because her mind was no longer her own. She was ensnared entirely, her mind held beneath the unyielding grasp of Valkari Ishtar's Crown. That realization sent a weight through Lukas' chest heavier than any wound. The very girl who he had sworn to protect—who had become like a daughter to him—now stood on the edge of death, her life balanced in the hand of his enemy.

Valkari's power explained why even the Elders—the oldest, most powerful of their kind—had failed to put an end to her. She had turned the Legacy of the Crown, once a shield given to the Lords of Linemall against intrusion of the mind, into a weapon unlike any other.

And now, that weapon had claimed the mind of Rosalia Elarion.

Valkari spoke again once she knew that Lukas did not dare move an inch from where he now stood. "You know Kaela told me you wouldn't survive the fall and I believed her, I really did. By the gods, you are hard to kill, Lukas Drakos. And it looks like you've brought my dear brother along with you."

Lukas parted his lips to speak, but before sound could escape, Valkari raised her hand to silence him. The gesture was calm, yet absolute.

"Speak and I will kill her," she warned, eyes narrowing with cold precision. "I do not need nor want to hear whatever it is you have to say, Lukas. There is no point in arguing about morality. I am no saint. But neither are you. You will simply watch as I do what I must."

In one hand, she carried the blade—a weapon not forged by her, but by Rysenth Isthar and his Divinity of Craftsmanship. Its edge shimmered faintly, a dangerous reminder of what it stripped away. Valkari moved closer to Lukas until finally she forced him into the sphere of the sword's influence, immediately robbing him of the Divinity of the Seas; cutting him off from the currents of power he had relied on so many times before. Her other hand moved with unexpected tenderness, curving around the back of Rosalia's neck. It was almost intimate in the way she held the back of the princess' nape, fingers brushing her skin with a false gentleness. But Lukas saw it for what it really was: a threat more final than any blade. A single squeeze, a simple flex of her hand, and Rosalia's neck would snap in an instant.

"They also told me to kill her when they found the human girl," Valkari murmured, her voice quiet but unwavering. Her gaze flickered to Lukas, sharp and knowing. "But for some reason, I knew she would serve a purpose. Now I know I made the right decision. Perhaps I knew you would return from the dead, Lukas. And maybe I'm even glad you did. Because now you can watch as I bring war upon us all. A war where humanity will pay for everything they have done to our people, everything they have done to me."

For the first time in countless battles, Lukas felt the crushing weight of helplessness. His Divinity remained silenced while his oath to protect Rosalia slipping from his grasp with every heartbeat. Valkari stood before him, poised to take everything he could not afford to lose.

It was Rysenth who tried speaking to Valkari then. His voice, deep and steady, carried not only sound but power as his Crown flared to life. A burning halo ignited above his brow and his thoughts spilled forth, laid bare for all to hear.

"Valkari." He whispered. That single word was weighted with history, with pain. Pain great enough to shatter the mask his sister had worn and continued to wear until now. That calm demeanour, that cold anger that filled her eyes was consumed—burned away—by an inferno of rage.

"YOU!" Valkari's voice cracked like a whip, sharp and venomous. "You do not get to speak. You are a coward, you have always been a coward. You do not deserve to lead our people, you do not even deserve to act as the Head of our House! I don't want to even hear a word from you, brother." She spat the last word with such bitterness that even Lukas flinched at the sound of it, as if it were poison on her tongue; as if the very thought of kinship between them was an offense.

For the first time, Lukas saw the mighty Dragon Lord of the Flames falter—not from a weapon, not from any magic but rather from words that cut deeper than any steel could.

All around them, the Earthborn continued their relentless labor, the dirt and stone rising up. And Lukas knew it would not be long before they uncovered what Valkari truly sought: the Heart of Kaeryth.

They were running out of time.

Lukas had to act. So he took a single step forward. The motion was small, cautious, but even that was unacceptable. Valkari's eyes snapped to him, and the blade in her hand pressed harder against Rosalia's throat. A thin line of crimson blossomed where steel kissed skin. Lukas froze at once, his breath catching. The sight of that blood was like a knife driven into his own chest. He raised his hands slowly, palms open, a gesture of surrender.

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The promise he had made to Rosalia's grandfather echoed in his mind—an oath to keep her safe, no matter the cost. It was a promise he meant to keep, even if it broke him.

"Kneel." Valkari ordered.

The command rang out sharp and cold, and for a moment neither Dragon Lord moved.

Lukas felt the weight of her stare, the danger hanging over Rosalia with every second of hesitation.

"KNEEL!" Valkari's voice rose to deafening heights, amplified by the Crown, and her fury shook the air as if the very mountain recoiled from her demand.

Lukas exhaled slowly and let his body change. The towering draconic form that marked him as Lord of the Seas shrank away, scales and wings dissolving into flesh and bone until he stood once more as a man. He lowered himself to the ground, each movement heavy and deliberate, a surrender not of will but of necessity. From where he knelt, Lukas could see the small cut along Rosalia's neck, a bead of blood sliding down her pale skin. Fear struck him like hot iron, a reminder of the fragile thread on which her life hung. And so he knelt before Valkari, the burdens of oaths and promises pressing down hard on his shoulders; harder than they ever had before.

All this while Katrina simply stood silently at Valkari's side, her expression carved in stone, though her eyes betrayed what her face could not. Those eyes were filled with shadows of doubt. Lukas was not surprised to see her standing there next to Valkari. He was just glad that she had survived up till now. Their eyes met for the first time since Lukas had descended onto the peak of Mount Ashendir and for the briefest of moments, something unspoken passed between them—blood recognizing blood, kin caught on opposite sides of a widening chasm.

It was then that Valkari's attention shifted.

Her fiery gaze turned from Lukas and Rysenth to the dragonborn who now stood at her side.

The blade lowered from Valkari's hand until it fell from her grasp, hitting the ground beneath their feet and the sound of steel striking stone echoed like a verdict.

"You said that you would stand with me, Katrina." Valkari whispered. Her tone was quiet, intimate, but there was nothing tender in it. It was the hiss of a flame, a promise that could burn.

"I did," Katrina answered.

But her voice trembled, faint and uneven, betraying the battle that warred within her very soul.

Valkari's eyes narrowed. With a sharp kick, she sent the fallen sword skidding across the dirt until it lay at Katrina's feet. The weapon shimmered in the light, its edge a deadly mirror of the sun that now shone above.

"Then prove it." The command rolled from Valkari's tongue like flickering flames. "Show me that you do. Show me where your loyalties lie, Katrina Drakos."

A silence fell so heavy that even the sound of the Earthborn digging seemed to fade.

Katrina stared down at the blade, her face pale and her hands trembling at her sides. She did not fear the blade that now lay ather feet. Her fear came from what Valkari demanded her to do with it, the line she would be forced to cross and the blood she would have to spill.

"Katrina," Lukas said softly, his voice little more than a whisper. He looked at his niece then and Katrina watched as Lukas' eyes fell to his right arm and rose back to meet her gaze.

"Pick up the gorydamn sword, Katrina!" The sound of Valkari's roar reverberating off stone like the crackle of fire unleashed.

Katrina flinched, and in that moment her hesitation crumbled.

Finally she bent down, her fingers brushing against the hilt as though it might bite her, before her hands wrapped firmly around it. The blade was heavy, but perhaps that was because it felt like its weight was pressing into her palm like judgment. Katrina rose, holding it aloft, and the steel caught the light of dawn. A pale gleam ran across its surface; brilliant, merciless and blinding.

Lukas did not look away.

His eyes stayed fixed on her, steady as the waves, unflinching even as she raised the weapon higher. And when at last she met his gaze, something wordless passed between them again. A thread of understanding that could not be explained with words alone. Her grip tightened and her teeth clenched as she stepped forward. Each footfall was heavier than the last, as though the earth itself sought to hold her back.

The air thickened with tension, heavy enough to suffocate those who dared to take another breath.

Lukas continued to kneel, hands bound not by chains but by his promise.

"You want me to kill him?" Katrina asked.

Valkari shook her head. "I want you to hurt him."

Katrina's face was pale, but her eyes burned with a desperate resolve as she lifted the sword above her head. The world seemed to narrow to a single point: the arc of the blade, the heartbeat before the fall and the inevitable clash of blood and loyalty. And then, with a cry torn from the depths of her chest, the Warden of Kuria Prison brought the weapon down upon her own uncle, the Dragon Lord of the Seas.

In that moment, Katrina Drakos declared to the world where her loyalties truly lay.

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